Scarred Bones
by HoodedSpellcaster
Summary: The Ministry don't go down because of a death of a civil. [Past Amelia Bones x Rufus Scrimgeour]


**Round 10 – Crashing the Ministry**

CHASER 3: Wizengamot (Law Enforcement)

Optional Prompts:

2. (word) tickled

9. (word) chemistry

13. (poem) A Divine Image by William Blake

* * *

><p>Summer is supposed to be full of laughter and joy. Bright days should be a blessing before a long and rainy autumn. It should be like a safe blanket around shoulders when the storm rages on behind the thin walls. Like hot chocolate and marshmallows in a cold evening or like seeing a friend after a long time and know that nothing has changed between you.<p>

But life isn't fair neither you are a muggle or a wizard.

There isn't warmth, love, and joy. There are dark clouds glooming in the horizon; the disaster that is just waiting to happen, wanting to break through the veil of false security. There is an empty void. There is an unfulfilled promise and a broken heart.

_Cruelty has a Human Heart_

_And Jealousy a Human Face _

_Terror the Human Form Divine _

_And Secrecy, the Human Dress _

And there's no one to pick up the pieces.

* * *

><p>The news had reached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement early in the morning. It had been just a passing mention, nothing major or detailed, but the corridors you know all too well have fallen in uncomfortable silence. The silence is too oppressive, it's too graceless. It holds the fact you know that it was <em>expected.<em>

The members of Wizengamot had given their sympathies to you. It's all what they can give anyway. There won't be a trial. No punishments. No sending anyone to Azkaban for a murder. That's something they can't do. What_ you_ can't do. Not in this situation, no matter how much you would want to. How much you would _need_ to. You had personally sent a letter to the relatives. No sweet, comforting words. That would hurt more than the mere acceptance. It had been just a simple reminder that you knew her too.

There isn't a limit for how much pain one family has to take.

The door to the office where the usual hearings were held isn't locked. It makes your breath hitch when you step over the threshold. When she's not there it feels like crossing a line and entering the enemy territory. The office that has once been spacious and warm, always holding the hospitable atmosphere, has turned into something empty and distressing. Like an abyss of loneliness and deep sorrow even though her presence still lingers in the room.

The office hasn't been used in a while. That hasn't been enough time for the dust to descend and cover the surfaces but it's still there; waiting for the room to adjust to the fact it won't be used by the same person anymore. That it will soon be taken over by someone else. The new Head of the Department has already been named but he hasn't moved in yet. You even hope he won't claim the office to himself.

The desk in the end of the room is in neat order and you stop in front of it. Everything is on its place but the harmony of the room is disturbed. The atmosphere is off. There is nothing personal. No photographs of friends or family. The room is suddenly colder than a minute ago. There is a pile of folders on the desk. You don't bother to look though them. On the top of the pile reports is a resignation. It's signed in dark green ink; the name is written in an ingenuous, artless cursive.

_Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement._

The Ex-Head of the Department, you think bitterly and grit your teeth.

She shouldn't have left the Ministry. You shouldn't have let her leave. You knew it was a bad decision from the moment she had voiced her opinion. The thought had tickled you with its freezing fingers, sending shivers down your spine. You knew something was going to happen to her if she was to leave and you didn't even try to stop her. It was her decision.

There is a knock on the door; a secretary brings you back to earth. "Sir." His tone is quiet, cautious even, when he stops few feet away from you. "The trial is about to start. The Wizengamot requires your attendance at the Level 10. The courtroom is…"

You say nothing. You don't even look at the secretary or even listen to him. He is young and inexperienced and barely knows in whose room he's standing. It angers you that he doesn't know. You know you're being stubborn. The Ministry don't go down because of a death of a civil, you know that. You have to move forward but it's a way harder than you expected.

"Sir…?" The secretary is getting impatient. You tighten your tie and finally pay attention on the man who's slowly turning into a nervous wreck. You hold back your tongue and try not to frown.

"…I'll be there in a minute."

The secretary nods and excuses himself and you're left at peace. You want to spend a little longer moment in the office. You race your fingers on the surface of the table and take a deep breath. Feelings are more complicated than simple chemistry. They aren't just nerve impulses and bodily reactions. They hold meaning. They are able break you down or raise you up. You close the door and head to the elevator without looking back. You can't break down because of that damned woman who left you to handle this alone. That damned woman you had the most feelings for.

_The Human Dress, is forged Iron _

_The Human Form, a fiery Forge. _

_The Human Face, a Furnace seal'd _

_The Human Heart, its hungry Gorge._

But what keeps you going is that she went down fighting.

* * *

><p>AN: I don't know where it came from but I ship Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour.

And now that I have written this I don't even know does it count. Well it happens in Amelia Bones' office aaand she was a member of Wizengamot. And the hearings were sometimes held in the office of the Head of the Department, in this case Bones' (though, because she was already dead, the office should belong to Pius Thicknesse). The Trial down at the Level 10 was about to start and Mr Minister was on his way there when he got distracted by an old love.

I just really wanted to write something angsty.


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